Let Me Go
by xXxUnReQuitEdxXx
Summary: Believing Percy's lie, Michael was given the chance to take revenge against Nikita single-handedly. But things do not go as planned when he is forced to admit his feelings for her. Then Percy decides to take matters personally and destroys her.
1. Chapter 1

Summary

Believing Percy's lie, Michael wanted revenge from Nikita for ruining his chance to avenge his family. He was allowed the change to bring her down himself, but everything does not go accordingly when he was forced to admit his true feelings for her. He finally has a chance to be with her, but Percy took matters personally and destroys her.

Chapter 1

"_Let me go"_

_He gave a painful cry and allowed his tears to fall, "No! Not again. I can't lose you again."_

Michael jolted up from his bed with sweat hailing down mercilessly. Every day since that incident, he could dream of nothing else other than it. He found no peace and certainly no means to move on. Now, his life consisted of finding her, wherever she was, if she was even still alive.

His heart burned at just a mere though of her. He missed her unbelievingly; everything he looked at seem to always bring his thoughts of her back to him, like a painful rush of wave against the peaceful shoreline. He could recall the few moments when they were secretly happy with each other without having to be on the opposite sides. Ever since her escape three years and eight months ago, their relationship had been wrought with lies upon lies.

He had been beyond angry at her for demolishing his rare chance at avenging his wife. Her response was, "I'm protecting you, Michael". Of course, the words simply bounced off his head, and his anger was fueled by Percy's lies. He was told everything had been a result of her devious plans, which was so easy to believe. Percy then gave him the pleasure of a one-man vengeance spree. Michael wanted to ask her so many questions, like why she did what she did, didn't she ever bear feelings for him? At the following confrontation, she offered herself at his gunpoint.

It was just the two of them standing on the silent cliff. The forest was situated at a distance behind. The air was warm and the moon presented its mysterious self partially, as if it was afraid to see what would happen. Neither of them could feel the warmth, nor could they hear the violent rush of waves. At the moment, their very worlds held nothing but each other, and their love, pain, and anger. He didn't understand what her motives were. She had a very strong determination to bring down Division for the world, so why would she compromise that by giving up herself like this? She had brought no form of weapon whatsoever.

"Michael", she said as she approached him slowly. She offered a weak smile, and the softness of her facial features was one of the many he would never forget. Her voice too was soft, but not feeble, never frail. Her personality would never allow such a thing. When she was approximately two meters away from him, she stopped.

He stared straight into her eyes, his body trembling slightly. At this point, most of his rage subsided; it was the love his feels for her that was causing the tremors. Oh how he hated the effect she had on him. God help him. He knew he wasn't going to be inflicting nothing more than guilt from endless questions and lectures.

"Why?" he asked meekly, "I just want to know why."

"Michael, I told you before; I was trying to protect you," she replied, her voice no harsher nor louder than when she initially said his name.

"Goddamit! Stop lying to me!" yelled Michael, failing to frighten her, "Why would you want to protect me? No no no, I'm not going to believe you. This is you trying to take advantage of my feelings for you." He kept his gun trained on her.

"Michael, I would never take advantage of your feelings, you must know that somewhere deep inside", she said, and with a vague smile, with hidden joy, she added, "I know, I love you too", she said as she slowly started walking towards him again.

Michael lost his breath. Those words, "I love you," were like lyrics to his ears. This moment was transcendent for him that seemed to lead to an epiphany. He found it quite odd at the fact that she did not yet speak of Percy or of his mistakes, like she had no other purpose than to tell him her love for him. She was risking her own life just to confess her love for him.

He started to believe the great sins Percy committed, and believed even more in the fact that that bastard needed to atone for his sins. Refusing to show any emotional response, he said "And Percy's role?"

"He was using you for his own benefit. Ever since you've been his right-hand man, he plotted the plan to exterminate your family, so he can keep your undying loyalty. He said he saved you, he didn't. He said he would give you the chance to avenge your family, he didn't. He said he would give you a purpose, he didn't, at least not for a good one."

She had confirmed all of his suspicions of Percy. He was forced to admit that he had wasted so many years killing people, wrongful and innocents alike. He was trained as a weapon, and created more live weapons during the procession of his job. The cascade of self-disgust engulfed him. He lost control of his emotions and suddenly, his legs became weak. He fell, kneeling on the grassland that felt so cold. The bone-chilling and bitter feeling immediately spread throughout his entire body, and then without warning, warmth. It was then he opened his eyes and saw her angelic face, her skinny arms wrapped around him, her soft cheeks against his, her body not a millimeter away. He missed these moments that once existed between them within the concrete walls of Division. Severe consequences prohibited the two from ever allowing anything serious to blossom. He instantaneously returned the embrace, forbidding this moment to end. Oh how he wanted to show her his love, but he had no idea how to. It seemed like there were already too many obstacles, too many missed moments, and too much time wasted.

"Michael look at me", she said, not losing the tenderness of her voice. She stared directly into his blue orbs and reassured, "I meant it when I said I love you. I'm not giving up on you, no matter how hard you try to get rid of me."

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he said repeatedly, "I have been in denial for so long, but I could never forget about you or even forget your voice. You left me in that hellhole! You can't do that, you can't just leave and pop up a few years later. You're not allowed to leave." At point, he was becoming more emotional. Years of these feelings surged on and on, until he started to become less coherent by the moment.

He used both of his hands and held the sides of her face and leaned in to kiss her. It was by no means soft, but it was full of affection and love, and at the same time, sorrow and desperation. She leaned in, returning the equal amount of unexpressed emotions.

"Start a life with me. I'll leave Division. I'll drop everything. I'll do anything for you! I'll do anything that keeps you with me" said Michael desperately. He saw a chance for them to escape into a world of freedom. There would certainly not be a dictator directing their lives, forcing a perpetual build of guilt. On top of everything else, he did not want to lose her again. This time, denial will not soften the edges of a broken-heart. He clung onto her even tighter, as if easing his grip the slightest bit will result in her disappearance.

"Michael, I would love that, but you know that wouldn't be completely possible. In our world, bliss will not come until the very end."

"We don't have to have the white house with picket fence. I know that we don't share a serendipitous first encounter, and that somehow, that doomed us to very complex relationship. But all that doesn't have to be. We can change, we can be happy. We can be a deviate couple, if you will. What I mean is that we can continue what you are doing, but be together at the same time. This can work, only if you believe and want it as much as I do. I have never wanted something more in my life. I want a life with you, no matter how you choose to live it."

Tears slid down her cheeks. She could not help but release a small laughter. It was still hard to accept the fact that the man she loves wants just what she wants. For this one time she decided to be selfish to allow him into her life. Constant danger awaits, but she was tired of running. If he was determined to stay by her side and fight a war, then so be it. They could be together finally! Nothing more could stand in their way as long as the two of them wanted it as much as each other.

"Yes Michael, we can have that life. As long as we believe, we can have that life."

"Nikita…"

_Bang!_ Before Michael could finish, the sound of a gunshot rang throughout the night sky. The world turned silent, allowing an eerie sense take over.

Michael was forced out of his reverie when his cell phone rang.

"Hello?"

"I think I may have found something. I'm sending you the linked file right now," said a computerized voice on the other line.

"I'm going to check it out right now." With that, Michael hung up and walked immediately to his computer.

"Nikita, wait for me, I'm not giving up on you."


	2. Chapter 2

Before continuing, I want to thank you all for reading and for reviewing the first chapter. It has brought great pleasure and encouragement to read what you guys thought about it!

Chapter 2

"_I love you, Michael," she mouthed, not losing her smile, "It's finally time to let go."_

"_This isn't the ended and I will never let go," he added. And louder for everyone else to listen, he added, "Goodbye, Nikita."_

Michael quickly turned on his computer and checked the file. There was a full description of Percy's next target and the subsequent steps he will be executing to fulfill his biddings. The description was packaged with photographs of significant and insignificant characters alike. The details were of no matter to Michael though. All he wanted to know was where and when Percy was going to be occupied, and an estimation of how long.

He did exactly what he told Nikita he would do; refuse to further commit any brutal crimes for Division. Anyhow, he had to follow his promise. He wanted to dedicate all his time searching for her. With every passing second, he knew it would become increasingly difficult, and he had no plans to fail. Nikita was his life.

Knowing that Percy and his Division were concentrating on a major assignment, Michael felt more at ease. This meant that their resources and attention were allocated somewhere and someone else other than him. Hopefully, he won't run into trouble… much. He whispered an unspoken thanks to the person on the other line and to God. Once he found her, he decided with great determination, e would bring Percy down insidiously and torturously. As he stared at the picture of Percy, he felt inflamed. He could not help but sink back into his memory of that fateful night.

Right after the shot was fired, his chest was overfilled with agony. His heart felt as if it was constricting and dilating, then constricted even more. He wanted to scream. The bullet that was now implanted in Nikita's oblique forced her to release her loving hold of him. She could not help but release an almost inaudible moan. Yes, she was being strong again. She was trying to show no pain, or at least pain that did not affect her much. At this sight, Michael was reminded of yet another feature he loved about her. She was the one who always took pain away without relinquishing any of her own. He admired how she was still able to look up and smile at him. Division was dangerously close among them, so Nikita took what little time they had left to explain some sort of feeble plan for his safety.

Before she could say anything, he turned over and held her arms; his back towards the woods where men clad in dark uniform would be approaching.

"Nikita, I can get us away from here. Don't give up", he said anxiously. His tears were restrained no more and they fell sleekly down his face.

"Michael, we both know that isn't possible. Percy will order your death if he knows you want out of Division, and especially if he finds out that you're helping me. There is only one way. Kill me, leastwise, pretend to," she said with heavier breathing. Her face already started to become inconsiderably pale.

In the background, Percy's voice rang loud, "Nikita, give up. There is no way out. Michael, bring her here." The fool had no idea that the two had rekindled.

"No! I wouldn't allow you to die before myself. How could you even ask that of me? Just so you know, I'm following you everywhere. To think you could lose me so easily…" he scoffed attempting to make this shady situation more bearable.

"Let me go"

He gave a painful cry and allowed his tears to fall, "No! Not again. I can't lose you again."

She grabbed his head with her bloodied hands, "There is no other way but this."

Just as Michael finished processing what she had said, Nikita head-butted him, unpredictably hard, unpredictable at all. Before even having the chance to react, she mustered the rest of her strength to kick him in the stomach, pushing him back. He groaned in pain. The heel from her boot acted as if it was her foot's weapon. He had no shield to offer, not for her, and certainly not for himself. The effects from the hit on his head had not even become full blown. He started to feel quite dizzy. His head bled, but not so much compared to his heart.

"Go after her! Do try to bring her alive", commanded Percy impatiently.

A few seconds after, Division's agents, all armed obeyed their orders. Two remained behind to support and hold Michael, who was slowly losing consciousness. The mental and physically exhaustion caught up to him as well. He watched the untimely scene unfold, one that brought him a hellish nightmare and a suicidal inclination.

Nikita fought to make the scene look real. She had fought many battles, but she just couldn't quite believe that the most important ones, which were also the most recent ones, where the ones she would not pass. She fought for her life, and the lives of many others. How ironic was it now that she would be giving her own life up, not that it mattered since it was for him. Her life for his'; it truly was epic, a perfect conclusion. She was going to fight until her last breath. Maybe she can help save some recruits this way, not that she would ever prefer to do it this way. She was able to maim a few agents, but her wound hindered her from doing much more. She was punched and kicked almost everywhere. She threw punches and kicks, and spurts of her blood flew with them.

_Bang!_ Another shot rang throughout the sky. The sun seemed to rise so sluggishly, as if it was wavering the chance to join the fight or the view. It seemed as if it was hesitant to see the demise of Nikita.

"NO!" Michael wanted to scream, but his lack of strength and his plan with her restrained him from doing so. He closed his eyes for a bit, but the noise was too disturbing. Even now they disturb him in his sleep.

Nikita barely felt the pain. She was already almost completely numb from the first wound. She was too hurt to feel, too tired to feel. She was dying already. The bullet had pierced above her collarbone on the same side as the first shot. She refused to fall. Ground agents continued ruthlessly landing hits here and there, pushing her to the edge. Ribs were broken, bruises coloured her body, and blood became the most you could see of her. It was amazing to everyone to see that she could even continue. Her persistency, and especially her will, terrified Percy. He could no longer wait another moment for her downfall. He grabbed a gun that was tucked in the nearest agent's holster. He walked passed Michael, and closer to the scene. When he was three meters away, he locked his gun on her. Michael, seeing this, quickly ran to Percy, barely walking straight.

He put his hand on top of the weapon and said, "Let me finish this. This is my fight, remember?"

Percy looked at him intently, and finally obliged. Michael stalked towards Nikita and the group of agents. He shoved the menial soldiers out of his way. Nikita saw him approach and knew that it was the end. She smiled, accepting the fact, because she was happy in the end. She did, however, have two regrets, which were not being able to live a life with Michael and not being able bring fulfill her promise to Alex. She can only hope that Alex, being the intelligent girl she is, will be able to find a positive guidance in the future. She knew she failed Alex, but hopefully, this will atone that by saving Michael. Michael will be hailed as a hero in Division.

Michael walked towards her alone, while the rest retreated back to Percy. He saw Nikita and examined her closely and meticulously. She took two steps away from her, two steps closer to the edge of the cliff. Michael saw how she limped. One of her eyes was closed because of blood and the enormous swelling. She looked like a chocolate fountain, well in this case, a blood fountain. How her face showed so much exhaustion from life overall, but yet, it was hinted with content and peace. His eyes became watery. She smiled one last time and very slightly, nodded, assuring him that everything will be alright. He pointed his gun at her.

"I love you, Michael," she mouthed, not losing her smile, "It's finally time to let go."

"I love you more, Nikita," he whispered back, praying to Lord Almighty that she heard him. He wanted so much to take away her anguish and fright, and fill those spots with love and warmth. Standing here, he could do no such thing. He felt weaker because his could not help but let more of his tears fall.

"This isn't the ended and I will never let go," he added. And louder for everyone else to listen, he added, "Goodbye, Nikita."

Two consistent shots were fired. The impact upon her body was so great that she was forcefully pushed over the cliff and into the dark abyss below.

Funny how her death resulted in utter silence and stillness of humans and nature, when she failed do so on so many of her missions. The wind ceased to blow, the animals were not audacious enough to move, and not even the mighty sun dared finish its course. Perhaps not even her murders could imagine her death despite that being their goal. Percy was the first to make a sound, a poignant laughter to be exact.

Michael could only stare. It was hard to believe what he did; he just killed her, his love, the one who he got so close to, but always never seemed to touch. This was more painful than losing his wife. It took recalling all the calm words and recollecting all the few wonderful moments they shared together for him to keep his sanity. He wanted so violently desperate to follow her over the cliff, follow her everywhere she was.

"You don't have to," she once said, "I'll always be following your heart anyways."

With that last thought, he lost consciousness, his mind drifting off to where she had already gone to – peace.

Just as he returned to the present, he received a message, apparently from a shell program. He remembered that it was something Nikita had previously used to contact someone inside of Division. He quickly clicked it open. The first message read, "I know about Nikita. Meet me today at 7:30am on 43 14th Avenue."

Michael read the message over and over again. Maybe it was Nikita herself! He was excited, but suspicious at the same time. Could it be Percy setting him up? It may be, but this isn't a chance he wanted to miss in case it was Nikita, or news regarding her. He briefly scanned the watch and saw that he had an hour. Then he proceeded to gather the weapons or the precautions he would need. Without another minute passing, he raced out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note:** The tracker implanted surgically in the spinal column does not exist in this story, though Alex is promoted.

I want to thank you all for your time in reading and reviewing this story, and especially for not giving up on it! I apologize for such a delayed update, but school and other things have proved to be quite troublesome and time-consuming.

Chapter 3 (unedited)

Michel, in all honestly, had no idea who to expect. He was well aware of the risk of exposure, because this could be a trap for all he knows. Anyhow, it was news regarding Nikita, or it could even be her in person! Whatever it was, he was not going to risk losing any information that could relate to her whereabouts. He just wished Nikita could be in his arms right now. He thought about her day and night, and when he didn't, he felt like he would start losing little details of her features. There were no photographs, just his memories, and that, he did not always trust.

He walked in front of a local coffee shop, one that was usually filled with people, even at this time. He scanned the area, looking for any danger and attempting to find someone suspicious. The morning area was chilly, but Michael did not feel its breeze. He was focused, like how he was trained to be. Not wanting to look too chary, he entered the shop, hoping the person was smart enough to find him. Dam, why hadn't he asked for a more specific location?

He approached the energized cashier over the counter. She wore a cap and an apron, both imprinted with the company's well-known logo. She greeted him jollily, which Michael was somewhat glad for.

"Good morning, Mister! What would you like to get?" she asked with a huge smile.

"An espresso is all," he replied.

The cashier continued to smile immensely as she turned around to prepare his order. Michael started to think about Nikita again, about her brave smile that never left even after the end. He wished numerous times that he were emotionless. It hurt too much too feel, and without her, it wasn't worth the pain. He would go through any pain for her.

The cashier returned with the black coffee, and as he turned around, a short figure, female to be exact, clad in a toque, a white scarf, and a trench coat addressed, "Good morning Michael."

He looked up, and was pleasantly surprised. In front of him stood Alex, whose charisma continually begot memories of Nikita. The two females looked nothing alike, of course. One was a maturing girl, and the other, a woman in her own right.

"Alex?"

"Yes, you've already forgotten who I was?" she asked sarcastically.

"I.. I don't understand," said Michael, mentally chastising himself for the slight stutter. To him, it was a sign of weakness that perceived him to be uninformed, "Why are you even here. Isn't Division tracking you?"

"Well for one thing, there's a reason why we're meeting at this hour," said Alex taking a sip of Michael's coffee, "Plus, since you left Division, it has been unorganized."

"Unorganized?"

"Its actually quite hectic. Percy is having difficulty in finding a field agent whom he can trust. I mean, he trusts Amanda and Birkoff, but they aren't, you know, field operators. Anyhow, I'm guessing you have more sophisticated questions for me other than what's happening inside the hell walls of Division," she explained casually, as if their discussion topic was nothing of importance.

"For a start, how did you get out of Division? Don't tell me they're trying to cancel you too." Michael said seriously, contradicting to Alex's tone.

"You should know how easy it is to make the cancel list. No, I haven't been discovered for anything treasonous yet. I've actually been promoted to field agent. Life is somewhat more free."

Michael was relieved. Though he should be suspicious of Alex, his instincts convinced him otherwise. Somehow, he felt a cordial aura around her. Maybe it was because of her resemblance to Nikita that was sidetracking him, but for now, he would have to pose more questions.

"Even then, Division should be tracking you."

"I know. The tracker is in my hip. Ni…" Alex stalled, feeling the pain of her loss, "She helped me set up the program to redirect my location."

Michael looked at her warily, and asked, "Who helped you set up the program?"

"Who do you think, Michael? I'm sure we're talking about the same person here."

"No, I need to hear it."

"Nikita helped me," she said with a smile, "She helped me even after saving me."

Michael felt the tears welling up at the brim of his eyes. Damn it! Why can't he control his emotions when it comes to Nikita, he cursed himself, forcing himself to be obedient when it came to this topic.

"Tell me more. I want to know everything, please."

So she did. Nikita deserved to have the bit of her legacy passed down. She told Michael most of everything, starting with a general idea of her past, the hellhole she was stuck in, and an early demise that would have came if Nikita hadn't entered her life. She told him about the interesting evidences that led her to believe in any existing loving feelings Nikita had for Michael, those in which eventually led to a confrontation.

On one rainy night, Alex was spending time with Nikita in the loft, chatting nonchalantly about the normalcy of a civilian life. Of course, being the great mentor she was, Nikita repeatedly warned her about human attachment without sounding too naggy.

"Did it happen to you when you were still in Division?" asked Alex curiously.

Nikita smirked and replied, "Lets just say it's not always in your control."

Alex had remembered the previous times Nikita would ask about Michael's opinions or comments towards her, as if they were of great importance. Usually, she didn't care about what people would say about her – murderer, traitor, deceptive bitch, and the list goes on. She was accustomed to it all, and even furtively enjoyed the titles. This made Alex question Nikita's intent on knowing. Nikita picked up Alex's glass, and walked to the table to refill it with more almond milk.

"So what does Michael have to do with all of this?"

At her question, Nikita seemed somewhat surprised. Alex observed her closely as she looked up and subtly ceased pouring the opaque drink. Nikita was quite like it, opaque. There was so much no one knew about her, as if a curtain cut her past and her present. A few seconds late, her face etched up delicately due to a smile, her famous smile. She finished pouring the drink.

Alex continued with an iota of nervousness, "I've just realized your enthusiasm to know the things he says about you."

"We all fall in love at one time or another."

Michael listened to Alex's recollection keenly, all of which made him miss Nikita more than it was possible to. He felt like a coward, because it was he who was unable to admit his feelings for her, which gave him all the reason to comply to Percy's commands. Oh how he despised that man, and himself.

"I miss her so much," Michael said unconsciously, before he had control over them. At this point, he didn't care enough to attempt to hide his words. He felt as if Alex was the only one who could trust at this point. There was no one else but him and her.

"You owe me an explanation," said Alex without being to demanding, "What happened that night? I contacted you and came here, risking it all. But its Nikita, you know, and I can't just let this go. I've already lost everything. I can lose everything, just not her."

Michael looked her in the eye and saw her eyes starting to well with tears. This somehow made him frighten with guilt. He took a deep breath and told her the tragedy, one he was well prepared to reverse.

"… and then she fell," he said as he finished. By he time, Alex's tears fell. She quickly grabbed the napkin and dabbed off the wet spots on her flushed face. He could see she was trying to be strong.

He continued, "I want you to be reassured that I shot her near her should and arm, away from anywhere that would cause immediate life-threatening effects. I want her to live. She's strong; I know she's alive. I just haven't found her yet…"

Alex cried when she heard him voice the words "shot her". But even then, she had hopes. She knew Nikita was a fighter, a renowned survivor, "We have to find her."

"We will. I haven't found her body, and I'm sure neither has Division."

"They haven't found anything, but we can tell Percy is nerve-racked too, though he's trying to hide it. He's taking the great pride in ridding her off the world, at least that's what he is showing," said Alex attempting to contribute anything that would be of assistance.

"There is no body yet, which means she's alive somewhere…"

Before he could finish, Alex interceded, "unless the sea washed her away."

Michael looked down in reproach at himself, "…unless the sea washed her away." But he remembered the surprisingly calm sea that day, as if even the force of nature willed her to live.

He continued, "Regardless, I'm not giving up. This might sound unbelievable and unnatural to you, but its like I can feel her. I can still feel her even though she's not right here with me at this moment. Even before, when I was sent to kill her, I had this connection, or a special intuition of some sort."

Somehow, what he said seemed to have made Alex a tad bit more upset, perhaps even a hint of jealousy. He dismissed it and waited for a word from her acknowledging his frail conviction.

"So what happens from this point on?"

"We work together and we believe."

"Believe?" Alex spoke with a strong thrust of frustration, "What is it with everyone telling people with no hope to believe? Is it supposed to give them the feeling of accomplishment, of holiness? Don't tell me to believe, I'm tired. All my life, Nikita has been telling me to believe, but yet, we still haven't prevailed. And now she's gone! She's gone, how does she want me to believe?"

At this point Alex was angry, but her tears rained profusely. This was starting to gain the attention of nearby customers.

She continued, "She's gone, and I miss her. I miss her, I want her back."

Michael realized the stares from the other tables and so he quickly spoke to calm her down, "Alex, its us against them in finding Nikita. She's alive. You believe for her and with her. For her, you understand? I got someone else in Division who is offering me some help."

Alex nodded absent-mindedly, "I'll keep using the shell program to contact you when I'm in Division. When I'm outside it, I'll use disposable phones from alternating carriers."

Michael quickly scribbled a number on the napkin and handed it to her, "We should leave now. It has been a while and people are starting to stare. Look, we're in this together. You're not alone. I'll be in touch."

Oddly enough, what he said in attempt to comfort her seemed to be having a more relieving effect on himself instead. It was time to throw Division off its course once and for all.

Somewhere in a remote land, a Caucasian man with blonde hair brought a clean towel and a bucket of water into the small bedroom. The house was generally small, but that was what the man liked about it. It was hidden well from anyone's sight, a perfect place to hide. Speaking of which, the small house hide many, many disclosed items and intel.

He entered the bedroom slowly. The cozy bedroom didn't consist of many things. In fact, it lacked many electronics that were considered essential to many modern people. There was a king-sized bed in the middle facing a 40" inch television that wasn't connected to a cable. There was no phone, no radio. The light beige curtains, which were chosen to match the white walls, were drawn to prevent a viewing from the outside… and also from the inside.

In the middle lay a slim woman, who was now nothing but a shell of a human being. She was once heavily surrounded by medical equipments, such as defibrillators and respirators. Now, her condition has improved, but she was still broken. He praised himself for doing a fine job for someone who had limited medical expertise. Her head was still wrapped in gauze, and so were her torso and arms. Intravenous linings and an oxygen mask were attached to her, keeping her alive. She was pale from blood loss and malnutrition. She hasn't gained consciousness since the day he rescued her. He wants her to wake up, but he doesn't want her to remember.

The man put the bucket on the bedside table, opposite of the other that held a lamp and more gauze. He rinsed the towel and starting wiping her arms. For the past six months, he was here for her everyday, every moment. He concentrated on almost nothing except her. He disturbingly enjoyed this. Yes, she was immobile and unconscious, but this allowed him to be by her side, and moreover, it had made her need him. This situation calmed his, as one may call, sick obsession for her. It wasn't just a sexual pull; it was emotional too. They had their adventures together, none of which he will soon forget. He continued wiping meticulously and softly, and at the same time, feeling her skin. She was clad in a black-laced bra with matching panties and sweatpants. This was for convenience in changing her bandages when need be. He proceeded to wiping her chest, then stomach. He missed her smile, her attitude, her love, everything about her. He ran a hand over her abs, the crease of her breast, and finally laid it on her chest, feeling it rise and fall. It assured him that she was still alive. After wiping her, he carefully lifted her upper body and moved behind her so that she was situated between his legs. He wrapped his arms around, being careful that it was not too constricting. He placed his chin on top of her head and held her close. He closed his eyes, enjoying the ignorant bliss. He well knows this won't last forever, but continues to wonder how things would change when she awakens from her slumber and how things would remain if she doesn't. He savors the bliss his ignorance gives. At this moment, he isn't sure what to wish for anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 (Unedited)

During his long years at work for Division, Michael made a considerable amount of trustworthy people. They were relationships that started when he decided to spare their lives, or the lives of their loved ones. Of course, all these benevolent actions were kept in the dark; after all, he had a reputation to uphold among Division. Between him and each of them, there were no financial benefits, only unceasing strings of cordial favors. Usually, he would not contact any of them, as he despised owing anyone any favors. When Nikita fell, literally, he had already decided what he needed to do. He had to summons these connections, but he couldn't do it so long as he was part of Division, at least not all of them at the same time. The problem was that he needed all the help he could get. Risking exposure of himself and his contacts was out of the question. It would undo all the good he did and ensure him a position on the cancellation list. He decided that the only way to even attempt to save her was to leave Division once and for all. He needed to get his life back.

The day he left occurred almost a week after Nikita's demise. He was unconscious for two whole days from exhaustion and stress. He chastised himself for being weak, for needing too much time to recuperate. There was a minute, right after he regained consciousness, where heaven feel upon him. Within these precious seconds, he felt nothing because he knew nothing; that was before his memories viciously returned and attacked him. He closed his eyes in attempt to force his tears back. He was within the walls of Division. He could not show any form of weakness even if there was not a single soul near him. There were eyes everywhere.

Suddenly Percy burst in proudly, his smile ever so evil, "Michael! You've finally done the deed."

Michael could only give a fake, proud scoff, as if he was sharing the joy as much as the devil himself.

"You really should be proud of yourself. Well I came to announce even more good news."

Michael well knew that good news for Percy meant bad news for Nikita. He hoped that the good news was not as good as Percy praised them to be.

"Well then, don't keep me in the dark," Michael said happily.

"We did a good number on Nikita. You should have seen her, all bruised and done. Well the main point is that she's gone, and she really is! I mean, we haven't found her body yet, but I don't think even Nikita can survive that fall. It was a grand cliff!" laughed Percy, "I don't regret it for a second that I sent you on that mission! Couldn't have made a better decision in my life. Anyhow, rest up, Michael, you have yet to reap your rewards."

And with that, Percy walked out the medical door, leaving Michael in misery and guilt. You'll regret everything one day, Percy, Michael thought to himself. By this time, Percy trusted Michael enough to not have called Amanda to him brief him. Three days later, after making sure Percy wasn't too worked up on finding any remains, Michael started to cooperate his leave. Percy had a very personal mission that he was eager to attend to, which meant that it would most likely result in a very handsome payment. He even brought Amanda with him. This worked advantageously for Michael, especially since he was left in charge. He started by gathering weapons of all sorts and secretively loaded them into one of Divisions trucks. He already had another car prepared for the switch, to prevent being traced. He was searching through computer files when Birkoff rummaged in.

"Michael, what the hell are you doing? You have no idea how odd you were acting today. I followed you around and I saw you do all that. Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm fucking leaving with a shitload of arms. What else does it look like I was doing?"

"Stop joking around, man. Percy won't have this."

"Yeah, well I don't give a fuck what that son of a bitch allows or doesn't allow. I'm taking my life back."

"Is this all about Nikki? Dude, she's gone! Just snap out of your denial before Percy catches you."

"Oh, don't worry about that; I'll be long gone, just after I deactivate and destroy this tracker."

"Michael, look…"

Before he was able to finish, Michael interceded, "No, Birkoff, just don't. You know I love her, you just don't know how much. You don't know how it feels like to have to murder your own love even after knowing how much pain she was already dealing with. You don't know how many moments I've already missed being with her. You don't know the pain, the torture, the agony, and everything else. You don't know, and Percy certainly doesn't know. This is how he uses everyone."

Birkoff was speechless. He didn't know the pain his good friend was going through, but at the moment, he seemed to have just experienced a small taste of it, and it wasn't pleasant at all. Michael looked after him through all of these years. Whenever he made a mistake, Michael had him covered and protected him from the wrath of Percy, Amanda, and anyone else who shunned him. He at least owed Michael an attempt to understand. He knew Percy was just using them all. It was the nature of the business they run. But this was his only life. There was nothing out there for him.

"Birkoff, we can't keep doing this. He's going to use us until we're all dead. So then what happens for you, huh? We get labeled as Percy's pet, renowned killers and murderers- that is if anyone even knows us. We are nobodies here, no identity, nothing! We're not even our own. I know I haven't done much good in my life, but even then, I don't want to die for one man's greed. I will not succumb to that low! We are supposed to fight to live, not fight to die," pronounced Michael.

"Michael…"

Before he could finish, Michael continued, "and I'm hurting so much. I miss her so much. I have nothing to live or anymore in this world without her! I'm nothing! So please, Birkoff, you either kill me now or you let me go."

"Let me help you."

Michael was taken aback. He really did not expect Birkoff to willingly be of assistance. At this moment, it didn't matter if Birkoff was planning to double-cross him. He had a chance to leave, and he most certainly was going to take it.

"Birkoff, look, you're not obligated to. You know as well as I do that Percy has no tolerance for these matters."

"Dude, you're not the only one who misses Nikki. She was… is one of the good ones. Plus, I'm not going to leave my brother standing alone," said Birkoff with a smile. He wanted to let Michael know that they were on the same side because Michael is the closest thing to a brother he has. Who knows; maybe one day they can have a normal life enhanced with a touch of abnormal advance of technology for him. He didn't want to be Percy's dog for the rest of his life. He wanted Michael to be happy, with Nikita if she was still alive. Ah, Nikita. He had a crush on her once, almost everyone did. Her character was not only charming and loving, her personality was cunning, intelligent, alluring, and all the good things one can name. He too wished she were alive. This was all Birkoff can do; stay in Division and offer any intel Michael might need.

"I don't know how to thank you enough."

"Don't thank me. Stay in touch."

With a last acknowledgement of a brotherhood, Michael departed.

Thinking back to that day, Michael felt the same feeling of appreciation, one that he will never forget. It was Birkoff who provided Michael with essential information on certain missions then and now. Moreover, Birkoff gave Michael the sense of brotherhood, of a family that he thought he had long lost.

His mobile phone rang aloud, bringing him back to the present. He pressed on the talk button and waited for someone to speak.

A computerized voice spoke robotically, "Fisherman witnessed woman saved by Caucasian man near cliff's bay."

Immediately after, the line was cut. Michael understood what that was. It was one of his contacts that were able to return the favour by discovering information he needed. He knew it was wasn't much, but it was something that he could use. His bags were ready to go. It was irrevocably time to return to those fateful heights that laundered his life away.

Blankness, then pain. Nikita slowly opened her eyelids. The pain was just bright enough to see the dim couture of certain figurines. Her head pounded even with the lack of light. She closed her eyes momentarily, and immediately pictures of people exploded in her mind. They flashed by very quickly in continuous cycles. There was this one picture of a man that popped up extra frequently. She couldn't remember his name, but she felt special feelings towards him. He, somehow, made her yearn for him despite the fact that she couldn't remember him. This was when she snapped; she couldn't remember these people. For God's sake she couldn't even remember her own name.

Nikita panicked as her eyes ran freely at anything she can grasp in the room. Where is she, she thought to herself. Struggling to get up, she used the bedside table to assist her. Her body hurt, in some areas more than others. She ran her hands over the areas that burned more, feeling the scars as if she just discovered them. Like a rush of a strong tide, those memories rushed back to her. She saw that very same man raise a gun against her. He looked both crossed and heartbroken. She saw his mouth moved, then darkness, then freefall. She didn't understand the feeling that rose when she thought about him. He is, after all, the man who shot her to oblivion.

She tried to focus on her current mission – to get out. She had no idea where she was, but she didn't allow herself to trust the situation. She quickly got off the bed and attempted to run towards the door, but fell before even being able to move another step, creating a very audible bang. Her legs were weak and frail, both from injury and the lack of use. She found herself helpless. She frowned and punched her leg in frustration, waiting at what was to come. She knew her fall would not go unnoticed, and was bound to attract some kind of attention. Soon enough a man appeared at the door and quickly approached her. She knew his face, but failed to recognize him.

Owen, upon hearing the thump, ran upstairs to her room. She was finally awake! He couldn't help but smile. After months of daydreaming, he was hoping he could make his wishes come true; he wanted a life with her. After the death of Sarah, the only one who loved him at that time, he was lonely. He thought life was meaningless and that he was nothing. The world was much better off without the likes of him, but Nikita had taught him differently. She, a stranger, cared a lot for him. She quickly forgave him even after admitting that he was Daniel's murderer, She healed him, cared for him, housed him, protected him, and so much more no one had ever performed for him. He soon felt deep feelings for her that he refused to admit. Then one day, she disappeared, not that she was obligated to stay with him. He found out that she had a few encounters with Michael. Oh, Michael, that son of a bitch. Owen was fiercely jealous of Michael. That bastard seemed to have a sway with Nikita. He zealously strung her along with him effortlessly. Owen could not understand what was so significant about Michael. Michael could not offer the protection and nurture Nikita needed; he was not even willing to! Michael was Percy's dog. Owen decided that he would do anything to keep Nikita with him. He was the better man.

He reached her room in no time. Seeing her on the ground, he walked towards her, hoping he would not frighten her. He wanted her to trust him. She struck out her arm to stop him from nearing her anymore than he had. Her arm shook in pain and fatigue. She breathed harshly from inputting much effort in her movements.

"Don't come any closer," she cautioned.

"Nikita…" Owen wanted to ask why, but paused when she looked at him curiously. He interpreted what had just happened. She didn't know who or what a "Nikita" was.

"What?" she asked shakily, not sure if he was addressing her. She used her arms to push her off the ground a bit and leaned against the bed. Her eyes never left his. She was desperate for answers, but she did not dare ask.

"You don't remember, do you?" he asked.

She didn't say anything, except tilt her face slightly and frowned a bit more. She tried to keep her authoritative expression, but was unable to do so when he simply continued staring at her with a determined face. She looked away, feeling embarrassed. She felt exposed, embarrassed, and weak. Owen saw her bashfulness and smiled. He couldn't help but chuckle aloud. That eased the awkwardness she had, so she accepted his help. He lifted her and settled her onto the bed. He, while holding onto her, propped the thick pillow against the headboard, and slowly eased her against it.

"You must be hungry and thirsty," he started while massaging her legs, "I'm going to go prepare something we can feast on. It won't take long." He could see that she was not completely comfortable just yet, but he understood that this would take time. He covered the lower half of her body with the blanket and left to food.

"Wait," she called him back.

He stopped without looking back, anticipating her question or _questions_.

"Who are you?" she asked.

He secretly smiled and replied, "I think the better question is, who are _you_."

With that he walked away. He knew he was eventually going to have what he wanted – her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Note:** There is defiantly going to be Mikita in near future, so fear not =]

Chapter 5 (Unedited)

Cove Island was the name of the small little island that rested on the foot of the monstrous island. It was not quite big and not too small. The people were kind and caring, unlike the city that was cold and unnerving. Michael's contact had told him that a crew of fishermen had miraculously found a female body slowly sinking into the watery abyss and had steadfastly saved her upon their discovery. When they returned to town, they immediately transported her to the nearest hospital where they released her to the solace of professional medical help.

By the greatest luck, one of the fishermen was a close friend of a certain businessman, who in turn, knew one of Michael's contacts. The businessman was enjoying a peaceful retreat with his wife when he heard of the heroic news regarding the fishermen. The team was being hailed as the band of heroes, and the details of their rescue were clear enough. The businessman boasted the integrity of the town, expressing his great joy and pride to have been part of that community. When the contact heard of the news, he contacted Michael, hoping the information would be of some use.

Michael, without a moment of hesitation, jumped to action. In months this was the most helpful piece of information he was given. He thanked God for his faith and for his blessing. Perhaps fate played a big role as well. As he thought about the situation more, Michael thought he might become a true believer. It was already rare enough for a woman to be saved, but even more rare to have taken place around the area Nikita was taken down. Fate must have played a true hero when it had been one of his contact's friends to have had been in that town especially at that specific time of the year. Good grace, it HAD to be her!

After being given the coordination, Michael cove island to start his search. He anticipated all the interrogation he would have to do, and prayed to God that these people were willing participants. Snooping around might attract attention, but fortunately, this town wasn't big enough to arouse immediate curiosity. He unwillingly had high hopes that he would soon find Nikita, as if he was just on the other side of the door. After going to Cove Island, that door would open, allowing the light to return to him. After he had her in his arms, he would never let her go. He would promise her that he would protect her forever, that nothing will ever hurt her again. He would allow no such thing to even come near her. They would live a life that would make her happy and he would give her anything she would ever want or need. He would care for her and love her like she rightfully deserves. He was already hers.

I'm coming, Nikita, he thought to himself, I'm coming.

After preparing the meal, Owen assisted Nikita down. Most of her wound had healed, except the ones that had physically left scars. Her body was frail from abuse and the lack of use.

"You still haven't answered my question," she said.

"Owen," he said, "My name is Owen."

_Owen…_ she silently repeated, trying to regurgitate any memory of him. She remembered saving a girl, then ultimately him. She could also recall how she took care of him when she was injured. That piece of memory comforted her, knowing the man couldn't be much harm to her. Still, her intuition would let go of an eerie aura about him. She knew she couldn't be completely trusting of him.

Owen could see Nikita struggle to remember. He knew she could only have good thoughts of him, mainly because he had never expressed obsession of any sort. This would go smoother than he had initially expected. After the death of Sarah, he dropped to rock bottom. Instead of letting him fall to nothingness, Nikita had reached out to him and pulled him back out. She was the one who refused to allow him return to the source of danger, the source of inhumanity- not that she could control what he did. The point was that she cared. She was the only one who cared. He was nobody but another piece of dirt polluting the beauty of the world. She was the light, the warmth, the goddess who gave him nothing but love and hope. Without realizing at first, he fell in love. He knew that he didn't even come close to deserving her, so he left. But he was only human, and he was unable to control his emotions. He thought of her constantly and was addicted to seeing her. He found himself spying on her, no, not just spying, but also stalking her.

One day she uncovered him, catching him in the act of spying on her. Being the kind person she was, she simply thought that he wanted a favour but was ashamed to directly approach her for assistance.

"How may I help you, Sir?" she asked teasingly.

He was dumbfounded for a minute, then said, "Nikita… how did you…"

Before he could even finish, she intercepted with a pretentious scoff, "Oh you know me. So what brings your return?"

Owen smiled, but he really didn't know what to say. He couldn't simply ask her on a date; that wasn't plausible in their trade. He didn't even know how to admit his feelings.

So she continued, "I you're planning to stick in town for awhile, you can stay at my place for the time being. Just do us both a favour and don't risk exposure."

He took her offer. But instead of doing his own missions, he joined her and proved to be a reliable and strong teammate. After a few months stay, they grew considerably close, but he could tell that there were certain topics she would avoid. He knew she wanted her privacy and personal space, and he didn't test that. He respected her and she respected him just the same way. They seemed to have a mutual understanding with each other and about each other.

One night she returned from a personal case she was working on. Of course, she spoke nothing about it, and he asked nothing of it. The point was that she returned more quite than normal, as if she was kept in a trance. He had made a simple dinner that night, so they ate in silence. He was unhappy because he felt useless. He could never convince her to open up to him, but he silently wished she would allow him to share her pain. So he did the one thing many people would do; he brought a large bottle of red wine.

"Well you can't quite deny there isn't anything wrong, but I'm not going to ask. You can at least do me the favour of enjoying this wine with me," he said happily. He wanted to try to lighten the mood as much as possible.

Nikita looked at him, and serenely nodded in agreement. He saw her tired eyes, which made him feel nothing but pain. Oh how he wished he could be her other half already. They both opened the bottle and cheered. They were going to turn this into a miniature celebration. He made a mixture of classic and hip song play-list from the computer and swiftly returned to the couch. Dinner was ditched altogether. They drank painfully fast, and laughed equally as much. She drank especially more, and was already tipsy, especially with the lack of food. Throughout the event, she would mumble only one word that was related to her sadness – Michael, that son of a bitch.

Then a slow song was played. Owen dragged Nikita to the open space of the room, and forced her to dance with him. Her cheeks were flushed and heated, her eyes barely opened, but her image was even more attractive. He couldn't help but be so close to her. His arms were around her waist. He did not even allow a single millimeter between them. Nikita leaned in to him. As they danced slowly into the night, she became increasingly tired. Owen knew she was slowly dosing off, so he gently placed her onto the couch. In her drunken state, she unknowingly pulled him in to her. Their eyes met, and he held back no longer. He kissed her forehead, cheeks, lips, and quickly moved down to her neck. He sucked and nibbled and kissed some more. He couldn't get enough of her. Oh dear God, nothing can explain her inner beauty, her warmth, her everything. He made her moan, which were all music to his ears. The night filled him with pleasure for a long time.

One day, he decided to take their relationship to the next step, and so he prepared a hearty dinner. He filled the open kitchen with candles and glued many glow-in-the-dark stars on the walls and ceiling. He heard Nikita return from her excursion, and so he stood awaiting her approach. His heart was pounding and he was scrambling his brain for anything sweet to say. He wanted to avoid as much corniness as possible. As she was walking down the stairs, Owen could hear her voice – she was speaking to someone over the phone.

"Michael, you know I would never do something like that to you," she said, her steps becoming increasingly slower. In a hushed voice, she yelled, "What I've done, I did for you!"

Owen felt torn. He knew who Michael was, but did not admire anything about the man. As far as he was concerned, Michael was Percy's brainwashed pet who certainly did not deserve someone as great as Nikita. Owen felt angry and frustrated. He, after all these months with Nikita, could not implement the same effect on her as Michael could have. Michael, as it seems, could affect her emotions so violently simply with the sound of his voice. Owen felt inferior. From the sound of her voice, Owen could confidently say that Nikita was trying was great endeavor to control her emotions and the level of her voice. He knew he shouldn't be eavesdropping, but he couldn't help but to do so.

"Everything I did that night, I did out of lo…"

Owen's heart stopped. It abruptly became difficult to breathe. His head pounded from realizing that Nikita probably did not return his affections. Everything he did seemed to have been a waste. He was a waste, and always will be without her. He knew what she would have said if she didn't stop herself.

Nikita was at the door. She saw the gracefully decorated space and the meal that had been tentatively prepared. She was lost for words. On the other side of the phone, Michael was repeated calling her name, willing her to finish her sentence. Still, Owen had surprised her, and at the moment, she couldn't quite determine if it was pleasant or not. She looked at him, seeing his embarrassed and flushed face. He also looked dejected.

"Goodbye, Michael," she said calmly and ended the call.

With her mood already ruined, Nikita had nothing to say. She decided that for once she was going to take the coward's path. She turned around and started to walk away.

"Wait," cried Owen, "After all that we've been through, do you seriously not feel anything for me?"

She stopped and replied, "Owen, I can't do this. I'm sorry."

"For once in your life, Nikita, you're going to have to give me an explanation," he yelled strictly, "Were you leading me on?"

"I… I didn't know. I know this sounds stupid, but I _really_ didn't know… _this_," she stuttered nervously. In fact, she really didn't know. To her, they were always just companions. Yes, they had their fun and pain, but she didn't see him that way, and she didn't feel the same feelings as he did.

"This? Don't say it like you're disgusted!" he said becoming progressively more agitated. He refused to believe that she bore none of the same feelings, "You cared for me, you were there for me. Why were you even around if you didn't love me?"

"Owen, I would help anyone who needed me, especially those who suffered at the hands of Percy. We are alike, you and I. Percy killed my Daniel and your Emily, which were all the more reasons why I felt like we could understand each other."

"Oh don't bullshit me, Nikita!" he said as he walked rapidly towards her.

"I'm not! I don't lo…" she was forced to stop when he pushed her against the wall, knocking the wind out of her throat. His right hand grabbing her chin, and his left arm kept her in place. She was not one bit terrified, despite the death look in his eyes.

"Don't say that," he said sadly, "Don't ever say that."

She tried to push him away, but he simply pushed her back. Still, she believed that she could take care of herself. He kissed her so harshly and so roughly that her lip began to bleed. She closed her eyes, feeling too guilty to hurt him further. He kissed her cheeks slowly, and then leaned his forehead against her's. His eyes were closed but tears dripped little by little. She could feel his body shaking the slightest bit.

"I'm sorry Owen."

He fell to his kneels in front of her. He leaned in so that his head rested on her stomach. She put her arms around his neck and head, hugging him in that position. Owen felt that warmth, but felt the loss of that warmth more. Loneliness, drag, hatred, solidarity, and so much anguish all rushed back to him. Suddenly he felt as if his existence was meaningless once again. Nikita didn't need him; in fact, she never did. He had deceived himself. He remained silent.

Nikita was afraid, but not of him. She was afraid for their friendship and at her lack of confidence in dealing with these situations.

"You're better off without me anyways, Owen. The world is really a beautiful place if you truly try to see it. There's so much to it," said Nikita before walking away.

He watched her walk up the stairs and heard the door close a hundred times louder than it actually was. Somehow, the sound was amplified, signifying his cage and his doom.

Coming back to the present, Owen added, "And you're Nikita."

"Nikita," she repeated, as if trying to grasp a concept.

Owen loved the adorable look plastered on her face as she learned who she was. She had a calm face that didn't betray all the fear she hid. She scrutinized his face briefly, and looked away just as fast. More images of the past, including the ones that showed their intimacy, and arguments. She couldn't quite interpret everything yet, but knew that she bore no such feelings for this man. She would have to be cautious.

"Nikita," Owen started earnestly, "you don't have to be afraid. I'm here to provide you with everything you need. I'm going to protect you. I am going to take good care of you."

Something about the last phrase he said bothered her, _I am going to take good care of you_. It made her stomach tingle and her nerves alert. She couldn't quite apprehend what her gut was telling her, but she knew it wasn't good. The sinister feeling returned and she prayed to God there was a way out. The only solace she found was when the image of that man came up. She didn't remember who he was, but in someway, the thought of him brought serenity knowing that there might just be someone out there searching for her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Note:** I want to apologize for the confusion and mistakes caused in the previous chapter. Firstly, Owen's girlfriend who was murdered by Division, is called Emily. Secondly, Nikita did forget people's names and most things that occurred after being recruited into Division. Significant events are quickly returning, but she still has great difficulty in remembering names and how these people, especially Michael, connect to her. Thirdly, she doesn't remember Owen, but she has a negative feeling regarding him. Lastly, she can't seem to shake the memory of Michael off. Her gut tells her that he is trustable… if only she can find him.

I looked back at the previous chapters, and the section line-breaks I put it were deleted, which was a source on confusion. From now, I will be using "0000's" to show this break.

**Chapter 6**

Michael was finally able to grab a hold of the heroic team of fishermen. They happily gave any information Michael asked; at least after he informed them that he was a distant cousin of the victim.

"Even with a brief examination, anyone could tell she was already severely hurt before the fall," said the tallest one.

"She had a sunshine face, tall, skinny, long dark hair, but she was in no sunshine state," the other said.

"Well, we sent her to the hospital. The next day, we decided to pay her a visit, ya know, to see how she's doing, but then apparently she was already sent to some private care facility," the third fishermen added.

"Private facility?" asked Michael with a great amount of confusion.

"Ya, but the young nurse said that that was the only information their database said," the captain added, "Funny thing is, no one claimed her publicly, and there sure as hell isn't a private facility close by. We kinda asked around, but no soul knows a thing."

"So she just… disappeared?"

The captain continued, "Well, that's one way to put it. She did go poof."

"You guys are sure there aren't any facilities around this area?"

"Son, I've been living in this little town all my life. Born and raised here, boy. There are nothing but woods around the outskirts. The only thing alive in those woods are the ghost stories told 'bout them."

Michael had thanked them graciously, leaving them with a handsome cheque that would buy them plenty of new equipment for their journeys.

Michael refused to believe that this was a dead end. The fisherman's description of the victim exactly matched Nikita's profile. Division couldn't be involved with this for two reasons; firstly, Birkoff or even Alex would have contacted him, and second, Division would not have to play off a transfer (they would have simply murdered her). He didn't know what or who else to expect. Maybe he ought to ask around town, he thought to himself.

"I want to go for a walk," demanded Nikita, causing Owen to sternly drop the cup of water on the counter. She could tell that he was surprised, no matter how much he suppressed his physical reaction.

A few days had passed without even a whiff of fresh air, or the sight of any other existing human beings. Nikita was starting to feel like a prisoner. Her previous requests to even go on a simple walk in the woods had been denied. Owen had said it was a matter that would affect her health. You're not ready to be outdoors, he had simply said.

"Nikita, you know my what my answer to that question is already," said Owen briefly after recollecting his thoughts.

"Wow, you're really giving that shit again. I can't quite tell if I'm a patient or a prisoner. Can you please answer that?"

"I have done nothing but care for you," Owen replied becoming slightly agitated.

"Yeah, well your actions show otherwise," she pressed on, "This feels like indirect animalistic abuse, you know, one that is not being let out of its cage."

"I told you this isn't a prison!" he yelled.

"Then show me differently," shouted Nikita reciprocating his tone.

"Fine. But I will be there alongside you. At no time will you be out of my sight."

"And you say this isn't a prison," she said as she walked out of the room.

By midday, Nikita, clad in skinny jeans, flats, and a simple tank, was ready for her excursion. Owen handed her a black cane. Despite the old appearance that it gave her, she took it to avoid any more physical contact Owen would offer her.

It was wonderful to be able to breathe in fresh air and to be in it at the same time. She missed touching the trees, the cold metal of light poles, and the rush of cool air that brush between her fingers. Owen and Nikita were treading along the outskirts of the town. He forbade her from walking within the town, saying that he was afraid of an infection to her health. She knew that was complete bullshit, annoyed at the fact that he could have at least fabricated a better lie. The pain did not subside entirely, so she relied quite heavily on her cane to walk. Owen was there, really close, but she refused to allow him to ruin her moment. They started walking along the boardwalk. She looked out into the vast ocean, imagining the freedom she was frightened to never get. Suddenly, _that_ man's face popped up again, as if someone was calling out to her. She closed her eyes tightly, strongly willing the face to disappear. Every time she saw it, her head would pound. She did not want to feel the sense of freedom that seemed so far away, so unreachable, so unattainable. She also did not wish to be reminded that she might have been an important someone, that this really was prison. She didn't understand Owen, nor his motives. She could not deny that he did indeed heal and are for her, but something was just not right about him. She held her head and tried her best to remain her posture. This, however, didn't deceive Owen.

"What's wrong?" he asked worriedly as he reached out to assist her.

"Nothing," she replied bluntly.

"I told you this was a bad idea," he said.

Nikita felt she had to release her annoyance, "No this isn't! You know what was a bad idea? You! You shouldn't have saved me. I feel like I'm a living hell. Why did you save me? Why didn't you just let me die? I can't remember anything, and I barely know who I am. There are these memories that I can't comprehend. You say you have feelings for me, but why isn't your face the one that keeps popping into my head?"

Owen was shocked. More than just shocked, he was horrified because she was thinking of Michael. He knew it was the face of Michael that she was remembering; there couldn't be another. A wave of jealousy overcame him, closely followed by anger and frustration. Why couldn't she just love him after all that he has done for her? She was ungrateful, unloving, and undeserving. His face scrounged from the fire of anger, his fists clenched and shook uncontrollably. This has got to be one of the most difficult things he did – suppress his anger and jealousy.

Nikita, who was still caught up in her emotions, was unaware of Owen's mood, "Who am I?... Who are you?"

"Me? You can't see who I am? I am the your savior, the caregiver, your provider, your lover," he replied in disgust, "Instead of appreciating my gifts, you take advantage of me. You seduce me and you use me. Not only do you not love me back, you cheat on me with the image of another man!"

"I don't know what you're talking about. And I didn't ask for any of this! I didn't ask for you."

Owen whipped his palm across her cheek, forcing her head to turn. He quickly used his other hand to grab the one that committed the crime, flabbergasted at what he had just done. She too was surprised, but her expression betrayed no sign of weakness and pain, only anger and strength.

"And you say you love me," was all she said.

With instant regret he approached her attempting to comfort her. He tried to hug her, mostly because he wanted her in his arms to comfort himself. He wanted to be assured that she was still with him.

"Let me go!" Nikita fought Owen off, not wanting to have anything to do with him.

"No, we can be happy together!"

Amidst their struggle, she yelled, "I don't know you're talking about. Let go of me."

"Hey!" yelled another voice from a distance, "Let the lady go."

Owen and Nikita turned their heads toward the figure at the same time. Owen almost immediately regained his composure, but instead of releasing his hold on Nikita, he only held her closer and tighter. Nikita, on the other hand, was still astonished. The man standing three meters away was the man whose image continuously existed in her mind. It was his image that haunted her and reminded her that she had a life, once upon a time. It was the man whose image she could not remember and could not forget.

Michael had been walking around time, almost losing all hope. He knew he could not give up, not that he wanted to either, but he just didn't know where to continue his search. Everything seemed like a dead end. He decided to walk to the shore in desperation to be near the place Nikita was last. It was ironic how this place of tragedy was the only place he could find solace. Michael found it odd how he seemed to be able to feel her presence today, much more robust than usual. Where are you, Nikita, he asked the ocean.

His serene moment ended when he heard the voices of a man and a woman arguing.

_Let go of me_, he heard the female yell, causing him to immediately be defensive (especially after losing the woman of his dreams).

"Hey!" he said while walking towards them, "Let the lady go."

He walked a few steps towards the voices, wanting to find the destructive cause of his peace. That was when he saw her, his beautiful, sweet, intelligent, stoic, loving Nikita, who seemed just as surprised as he was. He could see that the two had stopped their struggle to look at him. After all this time, God gave her back to him. She was there, so close, yet so far. She was alive, and seemingly well. She was alive, she was alive! She was here, standing in front of him. His wish was finally coming true. They would reunite and live a life together. He had so many questions for her, so much to find out.

Upon the sight of him, Michael saw Nikita freeze. She did not move even when Owen recovered from the shock. Owen! Michael was glad someone they knew was with Nikita, but he was angered when he saw Owen's grip on her tighten.

"Owen?" said Michael hoping for some answers and explanations. He thought it was understandable that Owen had not contacted him. He didn't know Michael was on the same side, or so he thought, "Nikita!"

No one moved. Nikita's face was still filled with surprise.

Michael took another few steps forward and with a confused face, asked, "Nikita?" Why wouldn't she run to greet him? Fine, that wasn't her style, but she would at least walk to him and hug him. Maybe she held onto a grudge for what he did. Maybe he had misinterpreted her signal that night. Maybe he wasn't supposed to shoot. Michael started to panic. No no, this couldn't be!

"Nikita," he said once more, lovingly and worriedly, "come back to me."

Her clueless expression never dropped, and all she could say was, "Who are you?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Note:** Sorry for not updating for such a long time. I had a chapter written, but my computer had to be reformatted and I was stupid enough to not back the file up beforehand. Thank you to those who stuck by this story and to those who took your precious time to review. That was so encouraging and motivating.

Thank-you! Hope you guys enjoy and please comment on any mistakes.

Chapter 7

"_Who are you?" _was the question Nikita had asked just mere seconds ago, but they seemed to have forced Michael in an internal trance. What do those words even mean anymore? Perhaps Nikita was playing or even testing him, or maybe she was attempting to pass a coded message for no apparent reason. Michael felt more lost than Nikita even though she is the one suffering from amnesia. Toying with a man's emotions was no game.

Michael, after finally finding his composure, stuttered, "Its… Its me. Michael."

_Who are you_ was a familiar question that they had came across once upon a time.

_"Who are you?"_

_ "Its me, Nikita," she replied softly, resisting her handler._

_ During Mission Euphoria, Michael had been injured when a rookie recruit, haunted by his past and suffering from panic disorder, made a grave mistake by firing upon seeing a figure approach him. Their mission was very simple, so simple that it could be seen as an assessment: the agents simply had to gain control of the perimeter and to seize $6million worth of meth, and to eliminate any personnel involved. Percy wanted to make an impression on the government to gain favor and hopefully more funding as well. Stark, the rookie, had panicked and opened fire, when it was only Michael moving towards his post. Fortunately, the mission remained to be a success._

_ Michael was shot on his arm. Luckily, it was a minor wound so he would be make a full recovery in no time. He stirred from his slumber and slowly opening his eyes. The infirmary was too bright for his sensitive eyes, but he felt a presence near him, propping a pillow behind him as he tried to sit up. His left arm was rendered useless for this time period._

_ "Nikita?" pondered Michael aloud, surprised she was here caring for him, especially with the risks posed by Percy and Amanda._

_ "I thought you were shot in the arm, not in the head," she teased, "Did you forget me already?"_

**Never**. Michael had thought to himself. Now, thinking back to that day, he recognized the irony. As he felt his heart gradually and painfully break, he wanted to cry. But he didn't want to just for pain, but for failing to appreciate Nikita's ways of showing her love for him, until the day she died for him.

His reminiscence continued to remind him of that day he pushed her away.

_ "Nikita, what are you doing here?" he demanded trying to keep his voice controlled and quiet. Allowing any witness would impede dire consequences for the two of them. He would lose his reputation and even his position among Division. More importantly, he would lose any chance of seeking revenge against Kaism, the bastard who killed his family in cold blood without regret or guilt. Just a mere thought about that traitor only angered him more._

_ "Relax. I'm just visiting a friend," she defended with that famous smile of her's, the smile that could be both genuine and a lie._

_ "You think this is a game, don't you?" he asked angrily._

_ "Michael, I…"_

_ Beore she could finish, he persisted, "Well this isn't. Stop acting so foolish and immature. This isn't a game!"_

_ "I never…" And again she was not allowed to finish saying what she wanted to._

_ "If you want to play around, then fine. Just don't include me in your games. Unlike you, there are people who want to change, people who want to make this world a better place."_

_ "Make this world a better place by murdering and sacrificing others? Oh I certainly see the difference," she said with sarcasm._

_ "Whatever, Nikita. I don't have to explain myself to you. What do you know anyways? I don't expect someone like you to understand anything," he said rudely avoiding eye contact._

_ "Yeah, what could someone like me possibly understand?" she wondered aloud. Listening to what she said, Michael instantly felt a strong punch of guilt. He knew how she ended up in Division; saying that to her was completely and inexcusably low and insensitive. He wanted to openly take his words back, but he was unable o find his voice. It was his sane mind screaming at him to keep his distance. Allowing himself to fall for her may result in a fatal ending, one of which may include a missed chance at revenge. A simple misdemeanor conduct report listing a relationship with a recruit could impact Percy's perspective of him, which was a definite no no. _

_ Michael remained unmoved and quiet, avoiding eye contact at all cost. He would break if he looked in her pool of goodness. _

_Sensing his reluctance to speak to her, she finally decided to leave him in peace. She prepared him a cup of water and placed it on his bedside table._

_ "Get well soon, Michael," she said as she carefully put her arm on his uninjured arm. She gave him and encouraging and knowingly comforting squeeze. God dammit, she had her smile on her face again. It haunted him night and day. How can something with that beauty cause him so much grief?_

_ With that said, she strode away without a glimpse back, Michael was relieved, but also bereaved. Is this what they would consider unrequited love?_

_ At that time, Michael was only surrounded by his hatred for Kaism, or so he thought. It was only after that incident did he admit the fact that Nikita, unbeknownst to her, had infiltrated his defences against anything involving emotions – maybe even love. _

She stared into his eyes with a pain-stricken expression, scrambling her soul for even the weakest essence of him. Her stare burned through his very flesh, leaving exposed and bare. He was nervous, but not from guilt, but from wishing with every fiber of his existence that she will remember him. His dysphoric state made him vulnerable, something he was trained to never be. It was unusual, unacceptable, and punishable. Without her, existence would be meaningless and mundane. Life would be nothing more than a chore; a hell-hole, sinister and dark, something tat brought only devils and demons. She could take what she wished and do what she pleased to him as long as she is by his side.

All in the while, Owen was standing idly by, watching the procession of their disgusting soul-searching and the progression of a rekindled love interest, and thinking what the fuck was he doing standing here. He should make good use of himself by stopping the son of a bitch from ruining his plans. The life he wanted so desperately had yet to begin, but Michael is a parasite that is unable to let go of the past and of the woman whom he loves, whom they both love. There can only be one winner and the prize was his for the taking.

"Nikita, I think you need your rest," Owen voiced with concern, his eye twitching from anxiety, an action resembling an old witch waiting for the princess to bite the poison apple, "You don't have to worry about this until later."

Preposterous! How dare he even say that? Not remembering leaves her vulnerable and opened to their enemies. What if Division, by any chance, shows up? Who knew what that monster will do to her, cause it sure ain't going to be serving her sweet cake.

"Owen, what are you try..."

Before he could finish, Owen interceded insistently, "Nikita, you need your rest."

Nikita was frozen. Her mind was completely preoccupied with solving the mystery as to who this man was to her. He spoke as if he knew her, and his tone screamed out, calling for her, telling her that they were once more than just accomplices, more than just friends, and possibly even more than just lovers. Vivid images of his face, his limbs touching her, his lips attacking her, his smell filling her, his everything fulfilling her, harassed her like a Blitzkrieg. Owen's voice was barely a whisper to her. The wind blew it away like it was dust, unwanted and pestering.

Michael didn't comprehend why Owen was acting this way. He seemed controlling and unwilling to permit a reunion. He claimed Nikita need rest… well, she actually does, after suffering so damn much. Michael was much relieved and happy, especially knowing that he had never given up on her, nor did he ever give up his love for her. He felt an unceasing negative vibe from Owen. He assumed it was this ex-agent who had cared for Nikita when she was laying between life and death (regrettably it was not Michael who had). As much as h wanted to tell the man to fuck off, he had to admit that Owen deserved at least a simple 'thank-you'. If it wasn't for him, Nikita might no longer still be alive. Maybe he just had to have some faith.

His thoughts continued to remind him of that day he pushed her away.

Nikita closed her eyes, wishing the world would just stop. She saw him point a gun at her, then she saw him open fire- at her. Her head was pounding, on top of her other physical wounds. She saw the anguish on his face and felt her own smile, like it had just happened. She was beyond confused. Why the hell would she be smiling when she was being held at gun point by a man she thought she loved? That's just it. 'She loved', but that doesn't mean her feelings are reciprocated; that did not mean that he loved her too. Suddenly, she felt exhausted. Her legs lost their strength and she fell, one of her hands clasping frantically on to her head.

Owen and Michael immediately reacted, with Owen practically diving towards her. Owen, who was standing closer, naturally was the first to assist her.

"Stay back!" he ordered sternly, hand raised and stuck out to signal stop.

On the contrary, Nikita hoped Michael would not back away. Despite seeing those horrific images, her heart continued to doubt any possible danger he might pose. Based on this faith, she decided to do something reckless. Dear God help her.

"I remember," Nikita said softly, "I remember everything."

At that moment, her voice was like a portal that transported you through a line of frames that toured around her weaknesses. So transient, yet so heartfelt. It was all the more emotional and sentimental knowing that this kind of even almost never happened.

"_What_?" asked an awestruck Owen, disrupting Michael's thoughts, his eyes wide with terror. This wasn't supposed to happen yet, not until he had successfully gained her trust and affection.

Nikita, offended by his surprise, asked, "You make it sound like it's a bad thing that my memories returned."

"No… no, that wasn't what I was implying," replied Owen stuttering from attempting to cover his anxiety. His mind scrambled with plans to fix everything. He needed a plan, a plan was all he needed, he thoughts to himself sounding like a communist.

Nikita, with great effort, lifted herself from the ground, pushing herself away from the stiffened Owen. Michael ran to her, and caught her before she lost her remaining strength.

They were catching on to Owen's insidious intent, thought they have yet to discover why.

Nikita knew she had to choose her words cautiously if she wanted everything to work out. She was confident she was making the right choice when Michael held her up. That was not any ordinary support hold. It was something empowering. It was genuine, the exact same feeling his radiated when she caught a glimpse of them.

"Owen, back off. This isn't something you want to get caught up in," said Michael not knowing what exactly Owen wanted, except for the fact that it was related to Nikita. Maybe a bluff in this case would help matters.

"Owen, what is it that you need? I can help you the best I can," pleaded Nikita.

Michael was reminded of the entity of her inner beauty. He tried to understand why she would want to help the man. He was, after all, still in his bliss from hearing her words – "I remember".

"I can't, Michael, I can't just give up everything for your happy ending," Owen said in a monotonic voice, "You don't deserve her."

Nikita grinned trying to comprehend the situation. Perchance it was something she had that she could give him, something important else he would not have to resort to such brutal tactics.

Michael tightened his grip on her, letting her know that he was not going to let go. He had her close to him, just as he had the night he lost her.

"You're in no position to judge, Owen. What you're doing is wrong. You can't coerce people to do things that they don't want to… It is just as delusive as believing that one can for another to love him," said Nikita with confidence.

"Owen, whatever you're planning, give it up. We can help you get what you need," said Michael with a dire desperation for an end to all of this.

"Nikita, how could you say that to me after what we've been through together?" Owen said with spite. His face became slightly heated, frustrated that she didn't understand.

Shit, Nikita thought to herself. He was brining up the past, things that she would not be bold enough to confirm or deny.

"Owen, things may not have been what they seemed," she said with a sad tone, "Just let this end."

Michael was shocked. Did the two really had something going on? Was his fight for all of this a rude interruption to a life they might have had No, Nikita said she loved him. Whatever they had or did not have is not really Michael's business. He knew that it was during the time when they were on opposing sides; fighting to ill each other and fighting to refrain from doing so. It matters not what happened. Now, it is about a future together and this moment, which will determine what will happen. Still, admitting all of that hurt.

"NOT WHAT THEY SEEMED?" his voice raised monstrously, making her feel abashed, and even frightening her a bit.

"I thought you regained your memories! Do you not remember the missions we had? We were there for each other. We protected each other. We were comfortable together. I knew this bastard," he continued pointing at Michael, "caused you pain, so I was present to help you forget.

Michael know he played a role in their pain, which is more a reason why he needed to protect his love. He looked down in shame.

Both Michael and Nikita were speechless, none wanting to say anything wrong, especially something that would hit Owen's nerves.

"And what we shared that night was filled with life, innocence, and beauty. Do you remember? Why of course you do; its unforgettable," said Owen insistently, "We were so close and so heated. I held onto you, I was there for you in your time of need. That day, you returned, but you weren't yourself. Something was bothering you, so much that you were worn out. I showered you with kisses and love, and you returned everything."

Michael felt his heart being attacked by a thousand knives, each entering slowly and torturously. He swallowed with immense difficulty. He seemed to have become numb. Everything was surreal. He looked at Nikita, who was just as much in disbelief as he was. Her eyes were wide, as if learning this information for the first time. But how could this be when she claimed to have regained her memories? On the contrary, her expression was so real. Here eyes were enough evidence to hold that truth. He can't say she betrayed him when she decided to sleep with Owen, but he could not help but feel jealous and rejected. Oh how he wished what Owen said was a misunderstanding. Then again, he didn't know the entire story. There were always two sides to a story.

"I… I…" said Nikita who was trying to fill the silence, "I am… I'm sorry."

"No! No! Don't apologize. You both said you'll help me to get what I want. Well, I want you, Nikita. I want you. You have nothing to be sorry about. All you have to do is make the right choice and come back to me," said Owen who's eyes appeared to hoard a wall of tears, "Just come back and I'll forgive everything."

Nikita felt her heart break. The contrition she felt for not treating him with more respect was heart-breaking. She summoned her guts to face Michael, but didn't have the power to look him in the eye. She held his arm, the same way she had, and gave him a smile. She had cuased so much pain, but yet she was powerless to fix them. Her intuition was strong (regarding a negative sense emitting from Owen and a positive essence from Michael), but her conscience held its stand. She truly did believe that Michael was sincere at heart, really, but hearing Owen's words made her doubt the _right_ choice.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, though still loud enough for them to hear, "I can't."


	8. Chapter 8

Note: I have no excuse. I only want to say sorry for my long absence. I am so sorry for making those lose faith, and am grateful to those who still believe.

**Chapter 8 (unedited)**

"_I'm sorry. I can't."_

The pang of rejection left ripples that weaved on boundlessly, slowing his beating heart to absorb the disparity of it all. He had never fathomed that the end could be so cruel, so cold. But even so, he could not deny that he deserved this. He, who had taken so much from so many others, was finally getting a taste of the karma that had planned and finally executed its Blitzkrieg. Karma was definitely a Bitch.

This was it; Nikita was finally leaving him. I'm sorry? I can't? What the hell does that even mean? He was dam sure going to get more of an explanation than a few words. Putting aside the selfish thoughts, he questioned how he had the devil to have had broken her heart the same way. She had tried fighting with him for his freedom, and he, in return, did nothing but take her's.

"_Michael, don't do this," she begged, on the verge of crying._

"_Don't do what?" It was more of a statement than a question. He was daring her to beg for more, wanting to hear the pain and desperation in her voice._

"_Don't do this to us."_

"_There is no us," he said coldly as he turned away from her. _

He could have changed this then. He could have accepted her love as a token of a new life, but like so many other things, he took advantage of her. He thought she would continue to come back to him, for him. He was going to break.

"Owen, you're ill," Nikita continued softly, "This isn't you at all."

Wait. She had just addressed Owen, meaning that she didn't choose Owen. Michael pinched himself to see if he was still in reality. At the same time, he could see Owen's figure stiffen, as if he had just heard something out of the ordinary, something he couldn't accept. But the cleaner remained speechless.

"Owen," she said again as she started to approach him. But Michael held on to her arm, refusing to allow her to approach an immanent danger and refusing to let her walk out of his life.

She didn't fight Michael's pull, "Why are you so different? You're not the same man I once knew."

"I am no different than who I was!" Owen was becoming increasingly unstable and angry. Was this why she was so distant from him? This is all nonsense; she was simply thinking too much.

"You are. I don't know who you are anymore," she said with a pained expression, "Who are you?"

"Nikita, stop your nonsense. These can't possibly be the only words you have for me."

"You're right. I have no other words for you."

Owen was visibly becoming more feverish. His face was redder than any normal state human, his veins puffed, and his hands were shaking.

"How dare you," he hollered, "After all that we've been through, all that I've done for you, you still choose to leave me for this bastard. How dare you humiliate me for all my efforts?" His voice started to shake.

"Just because you saved my life, it doesn't mean you own my life. I truly am grateful to you for your generosity, but I am not going to be your prisoner."

"I told you already that you're not my prisoner! I love you and I'm going to care for you, to protect you, to give you a life you so deserve…"

She interrupted, "I can't. No, I don't want to. I… I don't love you, at least not that way. There will never be us."

"No! You do love me. You love me. You love me." Owen repeated the phrase like a mantra, trying to convince himself to keep believing.

Being a bit disorientated was an understatement. He could no longer thinking straight. His vision was suddenly not as clear. He couldn't comprehend fully what she was saying. All he could do was try to fight away the pain of her rejection and desertion, with the fact that she will no longer be with him. He panicked. Everything was beyond control. He wanted to calm down, but even his body did not listen. He was losing everything, including himself.

Michael, being aware as usual, couldn't explain what was happening to the fucker. The man was completely out of his mind. Cleaners were normally careful and discrete. They were trained to keep things hidden. Their missions were their lives. But this, this was down right out of character.

Owen repeated punch himself on the head while saying "she loves me, she loves me". Within seconds he was reduced to his knees. Nikita started toward Owen, wanting to console him, to take away all the pain. There will be a reckoning one-day, and she would pay for all her sins. But at this moment, to the best of her ability, she wanted to help in any way she could. She didn't want Owen to suffer. She didn't want Michael to hurt either. Who would want to be stuck with an uncaring bitch?

Michael, seeing Nikita's pain-stricken face, was easily able to predict her next move. Of course she would want to help the poor man; it was second nature to her. Before she could take another step, he immediately pulled her back to him, wrapping an arm around her waist. With their close proximity, he could feel her accelerated heartbeat. He could hear her stilted breathing, daring to wish that her concern were for him rather than the other man. He successfully stopped her, though her eyes remained upon Owen's possessed figure. "I'm sorry, I really am, but I can't let you go to him. You can't fathom how dangerous he is right now," Michael whispered to her, "I'm not going to risk losing you again. I did you wrong, so much that God decided to take you away from me. I intend to repent for all my mistakes with my life. Just at this moment, I need you to trust me one last time, Nikita. Don't go to him. He's driven by drugs."

Nikita had almost forgotten about the charade she was leading. She had wanted them to believe that she remembered everything before her fatal accident, in the attempt to escape Owen and to have the opportunity to explain her connection with this Michael. Was that a confession she just heard him say? Exactly what did he do to her? Was he trying to kill her? That wouldn't fit the puzzle because he could have easily killed her when he first laid eyes on her again. Her guts told her that she could trust this man, despite all the images she saw in her head.

"What do you mean "driven by drugs?" she asked in a voice that was comparably discreet.

"He's a cleaner, meaning that he was put on a specific regiment of drugs," Michael explained, "After he went rogue, he didn't have another supplier. Owen is undergoing withdrawal, which explains his irrational and aggressive behaviour."

_Cleaner?_ Nikita thought to herself. She couldn't ask too much without arousing suspicion. She understood that the main point was that Owen was going through some sort of drug withdrawal. Remembering her own recovery from ketamine, she knew the pain. If death was an option, she would have gladly chose it.

"But we can't just leave him. There has to be something we can do."

"Nikita, there isn't," Michael said more sternly that he intended to. He just wanted to take Nikita away from this whole scenario so they can start to recover.

Nikita stared at Owen, both helpless in their states. Owen wasn't who he seemed to be. He wasn't evil. She wasn't sure if his intentions were pure, but they were by no mean harmful. He was a friend. They were acquaintances that fought by each other.

She can recall the time when he had assured her that they will always be friends.

"_Nikita," he called as he walked down the stairs to her loft. She was seated in front of her computer, intently researching for her next mission. _

"_Nikita, we need to talk."_

"_Owen, I thought I made myself very clear," she plead. She didn't want things to change between them, but if he continued to pursue her, she didn't know where they would end up. Telling him the truth was better than leading him on. She would be lying to him if she did that._

"_Just listen to me one more time."_

"_I'm all ears."_

"_I know we can't be together _that_ way, but I just wanted to be sure that we are still friends. I don't want to lose anything that we already have."_

_Nikita looked up from her screen and turned to him. She felt happy for once in a long time, appreciating the fact that this man still wanted to have anything to do with her._

"_I really hadn't intended to make things awkward between us," he continued sincerely, "I'm asking you if it is possible for us to go back to the way we were before. No strings attached to what happened that night."_

"_Owen, you don't have to do this for me. You don't have to fight Division with me. Revenge is for the weak. The best thing you can do for yourself is building a new life. You won't be Percy's focus. You have the chance to leave, so leave."_

"_I'm not in this for revenge anymore. I want to fight alongside you because I care for you and I respect you. I admire your strength and perseverance. And you know I don't have a life outside of this. I've been meld into this person and put into this industry for so long that I don't know anything else. We all know what that is like."_

_Nikita knew he was right. It was almost impossible to have seen all they've seen and pretend to have never seen anything. The person would have to be downright monstrous. But living only to remember all that they've committed would only be a lie. What woman or man out there can accept them wholly and completely? Nikita remained speechless. At the same time, she didn't want to drag him back in her crusade. No one else should have to lose his or her life because of her. _

"_Nikita, please don't send me away. I don't know how to do anything else but this. Please don't make my life meaningless. This is the only way I know how to atone for a fraction of my sins." _

_Now there was no way she could deny him any longer. She can't send him off living his life in guilt. She couldn't do that herself. And it was cruel to force him to. Maybe like her, he could remember what it is like to feel happiness by bringing other people joy. _

"_I'm going to look for Michael."_

_A moment for silence overcame them. Then Owen smiled and, to her surprise, encouraged her. _

"_Its about time you did."_

"_Thank you, Owen, for being friends with me." As corny as it sounded, she needed him to know that she was thankful. She would be indebted to him for life. In her time of need, he was always there, through thick and think. They were partners this way. _

"_You can't stop me from protecting you, just as I can't stop you from looking after me."_

"_Oh darling it's a promise," she said with a smile. The mood lightened a bit and Owen was laughing too._

"_Going to catch the man you love. Be careful, Nikita. Please do come back in one piece."_

"_Michael can't handle me."_

_They both laughed. _

"_What do you plan to do in the meantime?" she asked. _

"_I'm going to find a way to fix this regiment problem."_

"_I'll be back as soon as I can. Remember, we aren't alone anymore."_

"_I know you will," he said with a grin, "So where is Michael anyways."_

She had mentioned where she was going to go. Their conversation had lasted until she had to prep for her next mission. Owen must have encountered a problem looking for the solution to his regiment.

Owen's moan was audible. He was grabbing his head in a futile attempt to stop his migraine. He was sweating and the redness on his face and neck persisted.

Michael raised his gun.

"Michael, no," she said fiercely, her eyes not leaving Owen, "If you do this I promise that I'll hate you."

Michael couldn't help but feel jealous. Without needing a verbal confirmation, he could tell that their relationship was complicated. As much as he would like to take Owen out of the equation, he could not risk losing Nikita again, especially not after all of this.

Out of the blue, Owen yelled, "Don't you dare touch her! Don't worry Nikita, I'll protect you." Then he charged blindly towards Michael.

Michael wasn't sure if Owen saw the weapon in his hand, but there was no time to worry about that. He pushed Nikita out of the way in time for Owen to tackle him. They both fell, both trying to strangle each other. Michael kicked Owen so that he rolled over his head. But just as fast as he fell, Owen was on his feet, charging for him again. Michael punched him, hard. He spit blood out and like a raged bull, prepared to charge again.

Nikita, still weak, fell when Michael pushed her away. She could see that Owen was completely disoriented. When attacking, his eyes were not even focused and when he stood, he swayed. She knew she was the cause of all this. She had been selfish. She had not appreciated Owen enough. After the sacrifices he made for her, she couldn't drop her needs to help him. She could have been there to look for a solution to the regiment. But no, because she had decided to chase Michael without any promises, and with a death wish she though no one cared. No one except Owen. She was prepared to leave him, and she didn't give it a second though. Guilt. It was gnawing away at her. Her heart constricted and her breathing was laboured. Is this why she was alone? Do those close to her meet their untimely demise? What happened to all the oxygen?

Owen's attacks were continuous, but they were careless. Michael easily blocked him, throwing punches from time to time. Owen's energy was quickly burning out, but the man was goddamn persistent. Without notice, Nikita jumped onto Owen's back and wrapped her arms around him firmly. She held him so tight that her knuckles were becoming pale. Her face was plastered at the base of his neck. Michael watched her, knowing Owen needed this. Owen needed her.

Nikita's face was emotionless. At this moment she didn't care about anything except save her friend from self-destruction. He was fidgeting a lot, but was relatively calmer.

"Owen," she said silently, "come back to me."

At her words he stopped completely. He fell to his knees, bringing her with him. She didn't release him, and instead, hugged him even tighter to calm him.

"Nikita, what's happening to me?"

"Owen, let me help you, please. I know I've hurt you, but I never intended on abandoning you. Ever. We're in this fight always and forever."

His breathing returned to normal so she loosened her grip.

"Nikita I'm so tired."

"I know, Owen. Rest. We can figure this out together."

"You mean with Michael too?"

"He won't hurt you."

"He'll hurt you though," he said with a pained voice.

"No, that's all in the past now. We all have each other's backs. We are not alone anymore. We never will be again."

"What if he takes you away?"

"We will always be friends and partners, Owen. No one is leaving anywhere."

"Do you still love Michael?"

"Very much."

"Ok, I want you to be happy."

"I will be even more so when you're well. I don't want you to lose yourself."

Owen could feel her breath on him. Even though he very well understands that there is no them, he will always care for her. He feels calm, and for once in a long time, he doesn't feel the need to possess her. He doesn't feel the need to isolate her, or to take her away from this world. He is freed from those demons, for now.

"I know there is something wrong, and I want to get better," he admits.

"You will. We are all in this together."

Nikita didn't realize the tears that are slowly streaming down her soft cheeks. She didn't blink; her face maintained its blank state.

Michael approached them cautiously. He extended his hand, offering assistance and more importantly, offering a sort of friendship. It was the first step. Owen looked up. His face and eyes exposed him. He was exhausted, almost as if his life source was depleted. The man needed help, and Michael was prepared to do this, for the sake of Nikita. Owen shakily reached his hand out…

Then the peaceful moment was over, ruined by the deadly gunshots and the voices of assassins exchanging commands. Seconds later, an explosion followed. Sand and water flew everywhere, dispersing so high that the sun seemed to have been covered. It was a battlefield again.

As Michael fell, he thought of nothing else but the image of losing Nikita again. He didn't care if he died if he was going to lose the love of his life again.

As Owen fell, he thought of peace that had finally been bestowed upon him. He wished he could have done more to help Nikita find her happy ending, more to make Michael love her. _I'm sorry_, he thought to himself. He doesn't quite want to die yet. He has yet to finish the course of retribution.

As Nikita fell, memories flooded back. She saw Michael point the gun at her, and the agents that were accompanying him. Then she remembered the whole scenario. She loves him still, but she can't seem to grasp the idea of a future with him. Perhaps its been too long since they had the chance to reconnect. Being chased by death is not fun. She's at her end. Maybe she's the one who needs to let go.


End file.
